Free Write - the Photograph

 Prompt: She has a single photograph of him.

D-L's Free Write

Janey showed her granddaughter Samantha her single photo of him. He was dressed in his army uniform.

Meaux, France May 1919 and Charles Jackson were printed in faded letters on the back.

"I don't know if it was the same Charles Jackson that wrote my great grandmother Emily Wright or not. It would be a coincidence."

The teenager and her grandmother watched the crackling fire that warmed the room. The rain pounded on the glass door of the patio.

Samantha was the only one of Janey's three granddaughters who was interested in her hobby of finding bits and pieces of people who had lived long, long ago from letters, postcards and photos that she'd come across by accident.

"Where did you find the photo, Grammy?"

"At an antique shop on a shelf in the back. I recognized the name Charles Jackson from letters I'd found in mx great-grandmother's attic."

"Will Grampy let you go to the battlefield in Meaux?

"He'll fight me every cent of the way." She already had her tickets. She had to know more about the handsome soldier with the penetrating eyes.

Rick's Free Write

She has a single photograph of him. Faded. Well-worn. One corner torn. Fingerprints on the edges.

He was in uniform. Tall, proud, scared.

The photo was taken in front of the house. She remembers the neighbors calling out well-wishes. Except for one protestor, the girl who was against everything.

In the bottom corner of the photo, his dog, eager to be near, anxious.

It seemed like so little time they had together before he left.

Basic training. Then gunnery school. Then Special Ops, which she wasn’t supposed to know, but she did. Army Rangers. The guys who get dropped behind the lines to blow things up, kill people.

She had urged him not to enlist, begged him. But he only saw the adventure. And the money he didn’t have.

She watched the news every day. She checked the mail.

There was a raid. People died. ‘Enemy’ soldiers the government said but she knew they always lied. Children, the journalists claimed, and showed photos of small backpacks and little shoes. Women. Old people.

Like her.

She knew in her heart her only son was not coming home.

Julia's Free Write

Once Upon a time…

Don't all ancient stories start that way?

In any case it was a long, long time ago as she is no longer in the prime of her youth, never mind even in middle age.

1st grade and a new school, 8th grade and yet another, ninth and another,11th and yet again.

Then it was the first year of university: one year there, the next year here, the third there, the 4th year here and the 5th there yet again.

Of course she fell in love, just about as regularly as she changed schools.

The wild adoration of one year was forgotten over the summer.

She mostly remembers them with fondness, only the first French man with less.

Names, at least first names, have stuck as well.

Then she married, was widowed young but had two boys so continued in a fairly male world.

Of all the boyfriends she has no pictures, only of those in her mind: of one she has only one photograph, and that a class picture.

It's enough.

Rick Adams is an aviation journalist and publisher of www.aviationvoices.com, a weekly newsletter reporting the airline industry  top stories . He is the author of The Robot in the Simulator. AI in Aviation Training.  

Visit D-L.'s website  https://dlnelsonwriter.com, She is the author of 15 fiction and three non fiction books. Her 300 Unsung Women, bios of women who battled gender limitations, can be purchased  at https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/300-unsung-women-d-l-nelson/1147305797?ean=9798990385504 

Visit Julia's blog. She has written and taken photos and loves syncing up with friends.  Her blog can be found: https://viewsfromeverywhere.blogspot.com/ 

Note: The quote is from Margaret Atwood's The Blind Assassin